Card Games
by Arwen2
Summary: Spike does a bit of thinking. Set after Bargaining. A bit AU.


Card Games  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: The Characters don't belong to me, etc. etc.  
  
Notes: Well, this is my first fic, hope it doesn't suck too much ^_^;;  
  
  
  
  
  
The flick flack sound of plastic-coated bits of paper colliding echo in my room. It's become a second nature to me, the result of too many long sea voyages stowed away in the cargo hold. The cards whir as I shuffle and deal them out onto the hard, stone surface of the floor. Seven piles, flip over the top card, red five on black six, ace up above, two on three on four, add them to the five on six. It's become automatic for me after all this time, I hardly even pay attention to what my hands are doing or what my eyes see through the pitch darkness of the room. I silently thank whatever party is responsible for vampiric night vision. It's funny, this game is a lot like life, when you play Vegas style, that is. You're a wanker if you play any other way. But, like I was saying, it's a lot like life. You're dealt a hand and you see it through, regardless if the hand is good or bad. So, you play, hopefully to the best of your ability until you get to the end of the deck. To win, you gotta be good, but it's mostly chance, really. Very much like life. But then, most things are.  
  
Despite over a century of experience, I don't win often.  
  
The sound of the stone door creaking open and the nibblet calling out breaks the steady sound the cards make as I put them down. She eventually stumbles over to me, flashlight in hand. I'm still playing; the hand is shity, but I'll play it through to the end, nothing better to do.  
  
"Playing solitaire?" she asks, not really requiring an answer. I nod anyway without looking up as she sits down cross-legged, facing me. She watches me play for a moment in silence, just the sound of the cards again. "Wow, you go so fast..." she states, still staring. Her fingers weave together as she watches, a nervous habit. "So..." she tries to begin the conversation again but I ignore her. I'd rather not think about what she's here to say.  
  
Sod it, no good cards...put the two up, then the three, move the other three onto the four, flip the card...a king, well isn't that peachy.  
  
"She's back, Spike...Buffy's back," she finally says. Oh fuck, no avoiding it now, is there? I tell her I already knew. Well, sort of anyway. Her grave was turned up. Nibblet's the confirmation, all covered with her scent...cranberry mixed with that indescribable odor, like home and warmth; smells a bit like chamomile. I was a bit worried before but there it is, human. Vampires or demons smell different, like decay, but Buffy's back with the same ol' Buffy smell, though coupled with the tang of three months without shower. I reach the end of the deck, no more moves. With a sigh, I collect them and begin to shuffle again.  
  
"That's it? 'I already knew'?" She baits me to reply, give some sign as to my feelings. I resign and take it, but only a little. 'How is she?' I ask the girl before me as I deal out another round, making the stacks the same as before. Apparently she was expecting more of a reaction because her cheeks turn red and her mouth curves down at the corners into a little frown. So much like Buffy...  
  
"God damnit, Spike! Say something!" She yells in frustration. I'm about to respond that I did but she interrupts. "You can't just ignore me! Put down the damn cards and tell me what to do! I don't know! Tell me how I should feel! Buffy's back...but it's all wrong and..." her rage fizzles out into harsh sobs that make me unsure of what to do. I oblige her in the first part, putting down the deck and pulling her forward into a hug. I rub her back and murmur lies to her as she cries into my shirt. When she finally quiets I let go and stare at her for a moment, thinking of what to say to make things better. There's nothing. Her arms curl around her knees, hugging herself like a small child and I pick up my deck to begin again. "You're still playing," she chides without real emotion.  
  
I glance up at her and quickly look back to the cards. The slapping noise resumes. "What else can I do?" I hear myself ask in a hollow voice that seems unfamiliar. She nods in recognition. Behind the overwhelming, strangling feelings of shock and lingering despair, I think I'm elated. Confusing. Confused...William the Bloody, scourge of Europe, Slayer of Slayers, who's seen almost a century and a half go by, is confused. I smirk at that. The world is a strange companion. Just as you think you begin to know it, it flips you on your ear like a newborn that slipped out of the arms of an unwitting father. I flip the cards over...a bit better this time. We sit there, her and I, in silence, in darkness. The game continues. 


End file.
